Conversing with the Anariarch's Spider
They knit their webs well, funny creatures of the Vine. Spiders to some, nutrients to others. With grace and eloquence they knit and weave, some even glare in the sunlight. Clear to some yet naked to others; save to those that know the signs. To big are some, to small to boast are others, yet some still, only moonlight can reveal. Knitting well, we weave and bob, slowly tender to the wind; who guides her creatures well. On the night, and in the light, they move along echoes unseen, to spider and prey alike. Once joined, they savor the hunt, to most foul end to all alike. Still, most deadly they, are those who savor web's creation.